It's Only Television
by sephydark
Summary: England just wants some private time to watch his favorite show. But when he doesn't return America's calls, America panics.


England sighed, smiling to himself. This was what he considered heaven: a blanket wrapped around him, a hot cup of tea, and a season of Doctor Who on DVD. And today, no one was going to bother him. He wasn't even going to bother answering the phone unless he knew it was urgent.

By the time England took a break for lunch he had gotten a few calls, but none of them were from anyone important. Actually, most of the were from America, but he only seemed to call for stupid reasons, so England felt safe ignoring them.

-

America stared at his cell phone, feeling slightly troubled. He had tried calling England three times that day, and even checked that it was a reasonable hour over at England's place (something he didn't always do), but each time had been referred to voice mail. He had, of course, asked to be called back, but no return call had come. This was very odd: England always picked up his calls, even if it was only to berate America for wasting his time. America had even begun to wonder whether something bad had happened to England.

Of course. England had probably hurt himself, and was unable to get to the phone to answer America's calls. That-That was terrible! America had to save England before the situation got even worse.

America was about to rush off to England's house when he realized that he didn't have the key, which England had given him a few years earlier. He dashed back up to his room and tore the place apart looking for it. When he finally discovered it behind his dresser (it must have fallen off) he hurried off to England's house as quickly as he could.

America fumbled with his key in the lock, taking several tries to get it in. When the door finally unlocked he threw it open, shouting England's name as he did so. As he ran down the hall, he heard the television turn off, even though he hadn't even realized it was on before, and the sound of England's voice. America rushed into the room he thought he had heard England in... and saw England heading towards the door, looking annoyed.

"England, thank god you're okay. I was afraid something had happened to you," America said, relief evident on his face.

"Don't be stupid," said England. "What made you think there was something wrong?"

"You weren't answering your calls. I left voice messages and everything, but I heard absolutely nothing from you."

"I was just watching television and didn't want to be disturbed. Honestly, can't I even go a single day without you bothering me?"

"But you always answer," protested America. "And what if you really were too hurt to answer your phone? I couldn't just leave you here."

"Well, I suppose that I should be glad that you cared enough to come see if I was all right." England sighed. "Anyways, since you're here now, why don't you join me?"

"Um, all right," replied America, flashing an unsure sort of grin.

England walked back to his couch, looking back at America, who was still standing in the doorway. "Aren't you coming?"

"Oh, of course," said America, hurrying to sit down next to England. He glanced towards the TV in an attempt to figure out the plot of the show. It seemed to be about some man whose name he hadn't caught-everyone just called him the doctor (honestly, what sort of person would go by just "the doctor?")-and a young woman who were trying to save the world from some alien monsters or something. America was enjoying it a bit, what with all the aliens and running around and everything, when he realized-

"England, isn't this the sort of thing that you yell at me for watching all the time?"

"Only because you always want to watch that stuff. I don't have a problem with it some of the time but I do need a little variety, you know." America grinned and placed his hand on England's leg, filing the information away for later use in the same place he kept England's secret love of hamburgers.

After about an episode had passed England stood up, shifting America's hand, and asked "Do you want any biscuits? That frog gave me too many and I'm never going to finish them on my own."

"Huh?" America glanced towards England, confusion evident on his face.

"Biscuits. I know you like them."

"Right now? They're not really snack food," said America, still not understanding.

"Well, I'll bring them out and you can take some if you want to," said England, disappearing into the kitchen.

England emerged about a minute later, carrying a rather large box with something written in French on it. America opened it to peer inside-and laughed at what he saw.

"Cookies? You were offering me cookies? Why didn't you just say so?"

"Because they're called biscuits, you idiot. Stop butchering the English language."

"I'm not butchering it," America whined. "You're the one who talks funny"

"I can't be the one who talks funny. I _invented_ the language, for Christ's sake."

"Maybe, but I improved it," muttered America, grabbing a cookie and stuffing it into his mouth. England just rolled his eyes at America, not even bothering to reply.

"Come on, don't be like that," said America, tugging at England's sleeve. "Sit down." England huffed but complied with America's request, and America curled up against England's side, munching away on a second cookie. "I'm glad nothing was wrong. I was so worried," he murmured, softly enough that England wouldn't be able to hear.

"Maybe if you didn't always jump to conclusions that sort of thing wouldn't happen," England replied, also quiet. So he had heard anyways. America glanced up at England's face, worried that England was still angry, but relaxed when he saw that England was smiling gently.

"I love you, old man," said America, kissing England lightly on the cheek.

"I love you too, you idiot," replied England, returning America's kiss with one on the lips. In the background the television played on, but nobody was really watching anymore.


End file.
